


Like Father, Like Daughter

by GayAquarius



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Depression, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, No Romance, Older Characters, POV Third Person, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 19:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6717265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayAquarius/pseuds/GayAquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louise is 14 years old, and she's going through a difficult time, to say the least. Her teen years are plagued by mental health issues. She claims that Bob could never understand her, but he does understand, more than she realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is overly personal, but I feel I should mention it: This story is coming from someone who has diagnosed mental health issues and has attempted suicide multiple times in the past, so my intent is not to "romanticize" mental health issues or otherwise belittle them. While I generally prefer fluffy, lighthearted stuff, I sometimes like to tackle real topics that I've experienced as well. I also have a very complicated relationship with my father (to say the least), so writing about a loving, understanding father (which fits Bob in canon) feels nice, in a way.

With Tina away at college, Bob thought that things would get easier with only two kids living in the house. He was wrong.

Puberty did a number on Louise. She was always a handful, rambunctious as can be, but even in her trouble-making youth she wasn't _this_ bad. Her rebellious nature that showed throughout her entire life only became worse. Bob could only imagine the risky behavior she got up to when he wasn't able to stop her. Most of all, however, Louise developed quite a temper.

It was far from uncommon for her to explode at others, to lash out. Tonight was one of those nights, and Bob couldn't help but over-analyze the situation hours after it was over. He didn't fully remember what _caused_ the argument- it was probably something stupid- but he did remember how it ended. Louise, as usual, lashed out, and in a moment of stress, he did too.

The two had quite the screaming match, before Bob eventually commanded her to go to her room. The last words she said to him, before stomping off and slamming her door behind her, stood out to him:

_You'll never understand me, dad!_

Bob knew it was a common feeling for teenagers to feel alone. They often feel like nobody could relate to them, least of all their parents. However, it stung. Bob always saw Gene and Tina as both being far more like Linda, but in different ways. Louise, on the other hand, felt more like himself. He wasn't about to play favorites with his children, but Louise was always the one he had a special soft spot for. Bob sometimes caught himself spoiling her more than he should. He couldn't help it.

“Lin? Do you think I was too harsh on Louise?” The two laid in their bed, side by side. Linda responded without much thought.

“Oh, hush, Bobby. You're such a softie,” she teased. “She was being a brat. Don't beat yourself up over how you reacted, okay?”

This was one way Linda and Bob were rather different. Linda always found Bob's over-thinking to be strange, silly, and most of all, beyond her comprehension. She was not the sort to ruminate on various situations like Bob was. Although Bob loved her dearly, her lack of understanding frustrated him.

“You're still thinking about it, aren't ya?” Linda prodded. “Bobby, she's fourteen. It's a bad age. Shit like this happens, you know? You have a lot more patience than I do, or pretty much any parent I know who's dealt with teenagers.”

“I guess,” Bob sighed. “But even in these awkward, frustrating years, Tina and Gene were never like this. I mean, sure, they snapped sometimes, but it was never... _like this._ Do you think there's something wrong with her? I worry about her sometimes.”

“Oh, come on. Just because Gene and Tina weren't this short tempered at her age doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her. A lot of teenagers have quite the temper. You should have seen me!” Linda chuckled, and Bob tried to force out a laugh, but something about the situation still felt wrong. No matter how many times he tried to work past it, he couldn't settle the bad feeling he had deep down.

“I guess,” Bob replied halfheartedly.

Linda sighed, and said, “Look, Bob, I know how you are. This is probably gonna bother you all night and you won't get any sleep, right? If you're so worried, why don't you go talk to her? It's a Friday. She'll still be awake.”

“Maybe. I just feel like she won't even want to see me right now. You know how she gets when she's mad, Linda...”

“Well, it was just a suggestion. I just know that when something's bothering you, you don't stop tossing and turning all night, and trust me, I feel it. Besides, I don't like it when you get like this.”

“All right,” Bob said, exhaling loudly. “I guess you're right. I'll go talk to her. Maybe I'll feel better after that.”

“That's my Bobby.”

Bob stood up from his bed, stretched a bit, and walked down the hallway and towards Louise's room. He stood outside her door for a little bit and tried to brace himself. Bob knew that there was a good chance Louise would lash out yet again just from him trying to talk to her. Despite this, Linda was right; he needed to try to talk this out or it would continue to bother him.

He knocked on the door, and called out, “Louise?” There was no response. “Listen, honey, we were both in the wrong earlier tonight... I'm sorry if you feel like I don't understand you. I know it may not seem like I do but I'm doing my best, okay?”

Silence. Bob felt dejected. He was expecting screaming, groaning, literally _any_ form of a response, and yet there was not a peep coming from Louise's room. He may as well not even have been there. Louise usually didn't give the cold shoulder, but it hurt far more than her yelling ever did.

“I want you to know you can talk to me about anything, and no matter how hard things get, I'll always love you. I know that you probably don't wanna hear that since you aren't crazy about gushy stuff, but it was worth reminding you. I hope you understand that.”

More silence.

“Louise?” Bob's voice became a bit more desperate. Even if she was trying to give Bob the cold shoulder, usually by now there was at least some type of irate noise coming from her end. “Look. If you want to ignore me, then fine. But can you at least give me some kind of indication you hear me? I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall right now.”

Still nothing. Bob was hit by a flash of anger. Pouring his heart out did nothing. Linda was wrong. It was a waste of time to bother talking to an inconsolably enraged fourteen year old girl. He was about to turn around and head back to his room, but something pushed him to seek closure. Linda was right about one thing; this would keep him up due to how his brain functioned. Bob needed to see why she wasn't responding. He thought about all the possibilities. What if she had snuck out for the night? What if she ran away with no intention of coming back? One way or another, he intended on finding out.


	2. Chapter 2

“I'm coming in, Louise,” Bob announced, still trying to be polite and considerate of his daughter's privacy. He opened the door, and saw that Louise was laying in bed, facing away from the door, which disproved his theory that she had snuck away. The scars that covered her head from the accident she got into as a toddler were visible. Even though Bob was her father, even he rarely saw these scars due to her continued insistence to cover them up with her bunny ear hat.

To an outsider's perspective, this scene looked fairly normal, like Louise was just in a deep, peaceful slumber. Bob still felt wrong about it. If she was sleeping, how come she didn't wake up at any point during his rambles? It's not like he was talking quietly. Surely she couldn't have been that deep of a sleeper.

Then, something unfamiliar about her room caught Bob's eye. He noticed what appeared to be a pill bottle sitting on her nightstand. It was on its side, as if it had been knocked over. He took a closer look, and noticed it was sleeping pills, and not the generic, over the counter type. Another detail he saw was that the bottle was empty. It took a little bit for the reality of the situation to sink in, but when it did, it hit hard.

“Louise?” This time, when he called her name, it almost came out as a screech. While he didn't want to wake up Linda or Gene, he found himself unable to keep his composure. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder, and turned her so that she'd be on her back. “Oh my God!”

The sight he saw was horrifying, to say the least. Louise's skin, usually an olive tone, was chalky white. There was a slight bit of vomit around her lips, and her eyes were shut. Bob noticed how much his hands were shaking when he grabbed her wrists, frantically checking for a pulse. He ended up feeling a heartbeat, but it was weak. He had to take action, and fast.

He bolted back to his room to grab his cell phone, and when he did, Linda shot up from relaxing on the bed. The tension of the situation was immediately obvious when he dashed into the room and towards his cell phone on the nightstand.

“Bobby? What is it?”

“I don't have time to explain. I just need my phone.” He grabbed the phone, and as quick as a flash, he was back in Louise's room. Bob's adrenaline had spiked; he never moved so swiftly. He dialed 911. While Bob normally would have cringed at the cost of the ambulance, he didn't have the time nor the emotional stability to drive her to the hospital. He wasn't about to think about the consequences, either.

No matter how expensive the ambulance bills were, or the hospital bills, his daughter's life would always be worth more.

“911, what's your emergency?”

“My daughter overdosed on sleeping pills,” Bob said, his voice wavering. He took a deep breath so that he wouldn't weep in this crucial time.

After a brief conversation with the operator, in which Bob explained the details of the situation along with the location the ambulance needed to arrive at, he picked up Louise. He intended to carry her out to where the ambulance would pick her up. She was wearing pajamas: PJ pants and an over sized t-shirt. She'd look cozy in a different situation.

He originally tried shaking her to get her up, but the most she did in response was twitch. Although she was hardly the feather she was as a little girl, she didn't take after her siblings very much in that she was a lightweight. Due to a combination of adrenaline and her small, meager stature, Bob didn't struggle at all to carry her where she needed to be.

Shortly afterwards, the ambulance arrived, loaded her up, and drove off. Bob stumbled back a few steps, and wound up collapsing outside of his restaurant. His knees felt like jello. Even if he wanted to get back inside, he felt too weak. Bob's burst of energy from the rush came and went, and all he could do is break down crying.

Moments of him with Louise flashed before him. He remembered all the times they spent time together and bonded, the times where he could tell how much she loved him, although she struggled to express it. Even in her teens, he still got this feeling. Her ability to express love to her father continued to decline, and the moments were rarer, but they still happened. According to her, Bob still couldn't understand her.

There was a nagging feeling in his heart that _he_ caused this, that he drove his daughter to down a bottle of sleeping pills. Maybe if he had handled earlier tonight in a different way, she wouldn't have done it. In his heart, he knew that this probably wasn't the case, but he couldn't stop fixating on his part within this tragedy.

Bob became hyper aware of the tears dripping down his face. They only fell harder and more frequently as the image of Louise's face after her overdose was burned into his mind. She was barely there, slipping away. Bob couldn't bear the thought of losing any of his kids, but especially not Louise. His kids were his world, and Louise was more important to him than he could put into words.

“Bobby!” Linda's frightened voice brought him back to reality. He continued to sit, his back pressed against the glass window of the restaurant. Bob titled his head in Linda's direction, his vulnerability showing clearer than ever. His eyes were sore and bloodshot, more red than white. “What happened?”

It took a while for Bob to be able to find his voice. The tears had stopped for just a moment, but there was a familiar catch in his throat just thinking the words. Saying them would force him to acknowledge what had just happened, which he wanted nothing less than to do. He needed to, because he had to be honest with his wife. Rushing in the room as panicked as he was like that with no explanation must have scared her.

“Louise... overdosed. They're taking her to the hospital now,” Bob finally said. His voice squeaked, and the tears returned.

“Oh... oh god!”

The details were somewhat of a blur, but next thing Bob knew, Linda was sitting next to him. They held each other as they sobbed. Even though they had to deal with some scary situations with their kids, it was nothing like this. Not even Louise's accident which was bad enough to cause her to wear a bunny ear hat for the past decade was quite so awful.


	3. Chapter 3

Neither of the Belcher parents slept too much that night. They decided they'd tell Gene tomorrow, to prevent him from tossing and turning in fear that night as well. Neither of them said a word to each other for the longest time, not even Linda with her usual chattiness. They took comfort in holding each other, because there was nothing else that could be done except wait.

Bob continued focusing on all the details. If Tina or Gene were ever suicidal, they did a good job hiding it. Yet, he felt like they would have been more open if that did happen. Due to a combination of the details he knew and wishful thinking, he assumed neither of them ever felt as low as Louise must have before she swallowed the pills.

Also, from what Linda had told him, she had never gotten to the point where she seriously considered ending her life. Sometimes she suffered from panic attacks, but for the most part, she was able to keep her mental health in a relatively good state.

That left Bob and Bob alone when it came to a history of suicidal thoughts... and now Louise had joined him. It was one of the only situations where he dreaded her inclusion.

Bob wasn't much older than Louise when he tried. Losing his mother was hard on him, and he didn't have many friends. It often felt like his only company were the inanimate objects that he pretended spoke to him. His dad especially didn't provide much in the way of emotional support. He felt hopeless, lost, and alone. One night, he decided the only way to end the suffering was to end things for good.

He tried slitting his wrists with one of the knives in the kitchen, and bled out more than any average person would due to his hemophilia. He doesn't remember how or when his dad found him, but he received treatment and survived.

When prompted, Bob ended up making up some excuse about how he accidentally cut his arm while making himself dinner. Either his dad was a gullible fool for believing such a flimsy, poorly planned lie or he didn't want to talk about the subject anymore, because they never spoke of it again. The night Bob almost died may as well have not happened.

While he'd never outright blame any one person or event for this attempt, Bob couldn't deny that his dad did contribute to all the negative emotions that ended up causing him to snap, and his treatment afterwards didn't help either. It's one of the many reasons he tried so hard to be the best dad he knew how, because he never wanted to have that influence on his own kids.

After hours of silence, Bob let out some more pitiful cries. Linda held him closer, sniffling a few times herself. The next thing he knew, he had drifted off to sleep. He stayed asleep for a couple of hours, only to jerk awake later in the night due to a nightmare. It involved finding Louise's mangled, bloody corpse. Bob laid in silence for the rest of the night, not bothering Linda with his troubles. Even if he couldn't sleep, the least he could do for his wife is not disturb hers.

_

Linda eventually was stirred from her sleep to the sound of Gene practicing his keyboard a bit too loudly in the other room. He never intentionally tried to wake up the household with his music, but he always struggled knowing exactly how much noise he's making. At first, Linda tried burying her face in the pillow, but she realized it was no use.

“We have to tell him, Lin. He's going to find out on his own eventually if we don't.” Bob tried saying this in a monotone voice, but struggled greatly.

“I know. I just don't know how we should do it...” Linda said this in an uncharacteristically downtrodden tone.

“I don't know either. There's no easy way to break news like this. May as well just be direct.”

“Should we both tell him? Or just one of us?” Linda asked.

“Is there any chance you can do it? You know I'm not great at saying the right things in times like these.” Although Bob cared very much for his family, knowing exactly what to say when a loved one was distressed was never his strong suit. A dull ache returned to his chest when he realized he proved this point with Louise.

“Fine,” Linda sighed. “I'll go.”

Linda stood up, left the bedroom, and shortly afterwards, the sounds of Gene's keyboard stopped. Bob heard muffled sounds of a conversation, but it didn't take long before he heard Gene's reaction to the bad news, loud and clear.

“She did _what?”_

Gene's reaction brought tears to Bob's eyes all over again. He didn't realize he had so many tears to shed until now.

_

Later on in the afternoon, Bob, Linda, and Gene visited Louise at the hospital. She had gotten her stomach pumped, and was beginning to recover. Gene was clearly doing his best to keep the visit lighthearted, like they weren't there to visit a family member who had just tried to end her life.

After a while of telling lots of jokes and sitting through many attempts of Gene trying to get Louise to smile, Gene couldn't ignore his gnawing hunger anymore. He asked Linda to let him get a snack at the vending machine. Linda went with him, leaving Bob and Louise in the hospital room alone. Some tense glances were exchanged before Louise eventually broke the silence.

“Let me guess. You're going to ask why I did this, right?” Her voice had a slight edge to it, but it wasn't particularly cutting. It's as if Louise didn't have the energy to be her usual temperamental self.

“Of course I am, Louise. I want to figure out what drove you to do this so it doesn't happen again.” Bob felt ready to destroy whatever it was that made Louise feel as low as she did... even if the thing that he had to destroy was himself.

“Look, dad. It's not that simple, all right? You wouldn't get it.”

There were those words again. They cut more than they did the first time. Bob tried to regain is cool, and not let his emotions dictate his response.

“Regardless of whether I 'get it' or not, I want to try... but I can't unless you tell me what's wrong.” Although he didn't beg her to tell him like he desperately wanted to, there was still a hint of pleading in his voice.

“Well, your first issue is that you seem to think it's one thing that made me do it, and that's where you're wrong.”

Bob wanted nothing more than to ask her to elaborate and to tell her how much he could relate to that, but he was interrupted by the sound of a crinkling bag. Linda and Gene had returned, and Gene now had a bag of chips that he was gleefully munching on. With that, Bob felt like he was back at square one.

 


	4. Chapter 4

With time, Louise was discharged from the hospital. It was clear nobody in the family knew how to handle such a thing. While Bob kept a close eye on her to make sure she didn't try killing herself again, not much changed. Louise insisted she didn't want help or therapy. Bob and Linda knew that if she didn't want the help, she would do everything in her ability to make sure she didn't have to accept it.

After a few days of awkward wordless silences between Louise and Bob, Bob decided he couldn't take it anymore. He knocked on Louise's door a half hour after dinner, making the resolve to have an actual conversation with her.

“Louise? Can I come in?”

“ _Fine,_ ” she said in somewhat of a snippy voice. Bob braced himself for all the possibilities that could make this conversation go poorly, and opened the door. Louise sat on her bed, one earbud in, listening to music. She removed the earbud and gave Bob a dirty look. “What do you want?” Bob raised his hands, attempting to placate her.

“Look, I just want to have a conversation. I know you're not one for talking out your feelings, but I feel like this is long overdue.” Bob closed the door behind him, and leaned against the wall. He prepared himself for the possibilities of Louise reacting poorly yet again. Especially in recent years, her instability and unpredictability colored every interaction with her.

“Oh. Of course it's about _that,_ ” Louise said with disgust.

“Why do you keep asking so shocked?” Bob asked. “What parent wouldn't want to know what made their child try to... well, you know.” He couldn't say the words. He couldn't acknowledge the fact that his precious daughter intended on erasing her existence from the world. “But, since I know you're not going to want to answer that, let's stick to the facts for now. Can you at least tell me where you got the pills?”

“One of my classmates has some kind of diagnosed sleep disorder, so I bought the bottle off of him.” She said this as if she was talking about something small and unimportant rather than a life or death situation where she sought out the tools she used to attempt suicide.

As many questions as Bob may have had about this statement, he decided that there were more important things to focus on than which classmate she was talking about and where she got the money to pay for the bottle of sleeping pills. He moved on with his questions.

“All right. And how long were you... suicidal?” Bob whispered the last word, and it was barely audible.

“I don't know. A year? Maybe more? What did you think I did, write down the date I started feeling this way?” Even in a serious conversation, Louise wasn't stopped from her usual bitter sarcasm.

“Oh my God.” He only whispered this words, in a tone that resembled a whimper. They weren't said with _his_ usual sarcasm. Bob couldn't stand the thought of his dearly loved child being suicidal for that long. Louise must have seen the pain in his eyes, because her facial expression suddenly changed. She raised a single eyebrow and looked somewhat concerned.

“It's really not a big deal, dad,” she eventually said.

“How... how could you say that?” His voice squeaked yet again, and the floodgates opened. A single tear dripped down his cheek, and before he knew it, he was crying. He hobbled over to Louise's bed and plopped down next to her, the tears continuing to fall. Bob attempted to hide his face behind his hands, realizing that he couldn't even remember the last time he cried in front of Louise.

“Look, dad, I'm sorry,” Louise muttered. It was clearly difficult for her to apologize. It always had been.

“L-Louise, look,” Bob started, wiping away the tears with his arm. “You don't have to apologize. I've been there.” He averted his eyes a bit. “I try not to talk about my past, which is why you've never heard about this, but I attempted suicide once too. I wasn't much older than you. And I know that there was a lot of things that led me to doing that. Believe me, Louise. I get it. More than you'd ever realize.”

All the words that just came out of Bob's mouth left him emotionally exhausted. He took a deep breath, and the tears crept up on him again. He never would have wished these feelings on anyone, let alone someone who meant the world to him. Louise tried to stay stoic, tried not to let her emotions shine through, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“I had so many reasons why I felt that terrible, and one of those reasons is that my dad wasn't a very good dad to me. And I guess I was worried because I didn't want that to happen to you.”

It felt like the duo sat in silence for hours. Truthfully, it was only a couple of minutes, but the time dragged on. Neither knew what to say to each other. Louise was simply trying to process her father's words. Eventually, she spoke, giving Bob the reply he was waiting for.

“Come on, dad, really? You really think _you_ caused this?” Louise put so much effort into saying this in her casual tone, but it came out softer. More vulnerable. She feared Bob caught onto it.

“I don't know, Louise,” he responded, exasperated. “I can't say you make it easy for me to tell what you're feeling. And especially after that fight we had the night you did it...” Bob couldn't finish this sentence. He wasn't sure how to.

“I know we fight sometimes and stuff, but no. You didn't cause this.” Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. Bob knew she'd do anything to avoid expressing any thoughts that were too sentimental, so he decided to accept these words at face value and move on with the conversation.

“I'm... happy to hear that. But I'm not happy you felt this way to begin with.” Bob stopped crying, but his voice was still raspy and strained. “I know you want me to stop bugging you and trying to pry, but I don't ever want this to happen again, Louise. I know it goes against your nature to accept help, but can you at least try to consider it?”

“I dunno,” Louise answered, shrugging. “I don't know how much good it would do.” This was more honesty than Bob was ever expecting. He took it and ran with it.

“I get that, Louise, but you're fourteen. Not to belittle you, but naturally things will seem hopeless at that age, and like getting help is a waste of time. But like I said, I've been there. When I was a teenager, I was extremely depressed and it often felt like continuing to fight was pointless. It's not like things are perfect now, but I'm happy. I have my own restaurant, a wonderful family... and I'm glad I kept fighting. Do you see what I'm saying?”

“I guess,” Louise responded. She averted her eyes.

He patted Louise's back. “I understand that you probably don't fully believe me. That's fine. But I want you to be feel better.” That was the understatement of the century. He _needed_ her to feel better. “You shouldn't have to do this all on your own, Louise. It doesn't make you weak.”

Louise looked at him without saying anything. She was at a loss for words. She didn't even have a typical snappy comeback for him. It took a while before Louise finally said something.

“So, by help, do you mean... going to therapy?” she asked.

“Maybe. It could end up helping. I know it goes against your nature, but could you at least try?”

“If it'll make you shut up about it, dad.” Her tone was lighthearted. She laughed. Bob chuckled as well. He reached out to her, gave her a quick hug.

“That's my Louise.”


End file.
